Omar

Omar preferred computers back when they were imagined as motorcycle analogues: dangerous and powerful things to ride, built for experts, best when skirting laws. Hackers in black or white helmets, gunning off into cyberspace with sunglasses gleaming. You had to have sunglasses; they reflected the monitor so nicely.

Now mirrorshades are out of style, and computers are used to play songs you don’t like on MySpace. Omar named his club the Gentleman Loser and nobody got it. There’s a decent crowd most nights, but he can’t bring himself to strap on a keyboard and mingle. His leather jacket’s too hot anyway.